


This affection I tend to, it is essential

by oftirnanog



Series: You've got the love I need to see me through [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, half-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftirnanog/pseuds/oftirnanog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Lydia laughs, shaking her head, both at Stiles’ comment and at the sight of her friends, and she finds her chest bursting with something she can’t quantify, something building and threatening to consume her, something that she might not mind being consumed by because it feels an awful lot like home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This affection I tend to, it is essential

**Author's Note:**

> So this is not really complete. It will never be complete. But it's part of this series and it's just sitting on my hard drive, so why not let some people read it? That being said, it's not overly edited or even very well written, so sorry about that. Mostly I just had an attack of Stiles/Lydia friendship feels and then I lost interest in the rest of it. Oops. Sometimes I'm fickle. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always this can more or less stand alone as a piece, though you'll be missing a lot of backstory without the rest of the series.
> 
> Title from "You and I, we are not angels" by Monica A Hand

When Lydia makes her way into the arrivals area after finding her luggage, the first thing she sees is a large sign bobbing above the throng of people. It reads LYDIA MARTIN in bright red letters. She snorts when Stiles spots her through the crowd, wide grin splitting his face, and Danny takes the sign from him so he can rush her and lift her into a full body hug. 

“I missed you!” he says, setting her down and grabbing one of her bags.

“Was the sign really necessary?” she asks, because she may like the sign, but that doesn’t mean Stiles needs to know that.

“You haven’t seen me in like a year, what if you didn’t recognize me?”

“Subtle,” Lydia says. “I know it’s been a while, you don’t have to guilt trip me.”

“Is he giving you a hard time?” Danny asks, pulling her into a much gentler but no less enthusiastic hug.

“Yes, but it’s the only way he knows how to show love, poor thing.”

“Don’t I know it,” Danny replies.

“Hey,” Stiles protests. “That’s not fair. You’re together for less than a minute and you’re already ganging up on me.”

“Well, it’s the only way we know how to show love,” Lydia says.

“Poor things,” Danny adds.

Lydia lets Danny take her other large suitcase so she can shift her carry-on to her other shoulder and loop her arm with Stiles’. 

“I missed you too,” she says in a stage whisper and bumps her hip against him.

“Sure, sure,” he replies, but he smiles at her like she’s the best thing he’s seen all day.

Stiles looks good. His skin is carrying a bit of tan, making Lydia look even whiter by comparison, though next to Danny he still looks pale as ever. His hair is just long enough that he’s probably overdue for a haircut, but it’s working for him, and he looks happy, something tucked at the corners of his mouth and around his eyes that suggests something more than his just being happy to see her again.

“Allison says to apologize that she couldn’t be here,” Danny tells her.

Lydia laughs. “Just in case I missed the dozen texts she sent?”

“She was really upset she couldn’t make it,” Stiles says. “But she wanted to get everything at work done so she could make it to the party tonight.”

He drops the last bit of information with heavy-handed casualness and Lydia’s sure that if he weren’t currently occupied with her arm and her suitcase he’d be nonchalantly examining his nails.

“You are a ridiculous person,” Lydia tells him. “You didn’t have to have a party for me.”

“Who said it was for you?” Stiles says.

“It was originally for you,” Danny assures her.

“Originally?”

“Now it’s for you and Scott,” Stiles supplies, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement. Lydia doesn’t know how she missed it before.

“And why does Scott need a party?” Lydia asks, mostly to humour him.

“Well, not just him,” Stiles says. “His fiancée too.”

“Scott finally popped the question!”

“Yeah,” Danny says, taking pity on Lydia by stopping Stiles from dragging it out further. “As of two days ago, so we decided to turn the party into a welcome back/congratulations thing.”

“Stealing my party from me before I even knew I had one,” Lydia says, but she can’t help giving Stiles her biggest smile.

Stiles unhooks his arm from hers so he can wrap it around her shoulder and pull her into a side hug. He kisses the side of her head and murmurs, “Good to have you back.”

*

“Nooo, you can’t leave yet!” Scott insists, more than a little drunkenly, as Boyd buckles his sleeping daughter into her baby carrier. Erica is standing next to him with their jackets and she pulls Scott into a hug, letting him lean most of his weight on her.

She laughs and ruffles his hair. “It’s already midnight.”

“Past little Isabel’s bedtime?” Scott mumbles, peeking over Erica to wave at the sleeping baby.

“Past my bedtime,” Boyd says, lifting the carrier.

“Oh, let them go, Scott, they’ve been here for hours,” Allison says from her spot at Lydia’s side.

She hasn’t wandered far from her all night, and Lydia’s quite content with that. They’ve barely stopped touching since Allison showed up at the restaurant; an arm around the waist, a hand on the shoulder or the small of the back, hips and arms brushing as they stand next to each other. They’ve been apart for six months with only scattered days spent together so Lydia figures they’re allowed this excessive groping, even if she feels a bit like an octopus.

Lydia laughs when Erica rolls her eyes and then leans forward to hug her. “I am completely serious about you bringing Isabel over when you need a babysitter,” Lydia tells her.

“You may regret that offer one of these days,” Erica says. “But thank you.”

“Thanks for coming, you guys,” Allison says, letting Boyd pull her into a side hug. “Bye Isabel.”

Isabel doesn’t move except to breathe and they all smile at her sleeping form in that ridiculous way people have of staring at babies. It takes Danny coming over with a tray of shooters to pull them out of it.

“Okay, who needs another drink?” Danny asks, and they all snap their attention around. 

Erica and Boyd wave and call their goodbyes again and Scott waves one final time before spinning to face Danny. 

“About that drink,” he says, trading Danny his empty beer glass for a shooter. It looks like it might be tequila. “And one for my fiancée!” he insists, when Danielle shows up behind Danny. 

Allison snorts. “He really doesn’t need another drink,” she mutters, and then stumbles slightly as she leans into Lydia.

“You’re one to talk,” Lydia teases, running a hand over Allison’s hair.

Allison makes a face that is probably supposed to convey haughty defiance, but instead just comes off adorably drunk.

“I think I need another too,” Allison says, untangling herself from Lydia and plucking a shooter off the tray.

Lydia moves to take one herself and finds the tray empty.

“Stiles has a special drink for you,” Danny says and tilts his head towards the bar where Stiles is mixing something in a cocktail shaker.

Lydia rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, gives Danny’s ass a slap on her way by, and struts over to the bar.

“Putting your bar tending skills to good use?” Lydia asks.

“Uhh,” Stiles starts, distracted by the twist of lemon he’s artfully adding to her cocktail. “More like using the party guests as guinea pigs?”

“Of course,” Lydia says, taking the glass from Stiles. She goes to take a sip and then pauses. “Am I one of those guinea pigs?”

“Not at the moment,” Stiles says, grinning at her and wiping out a glass with the bar towel he’s had draped over his shoulder all night. “That is a tried and true Stilinksi special right there.”

“Really? What’s it called?” Lydia takes a tentative sip and raises her eyebrows. “It’s good.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Stiles says, whipping the towel lightly in her direction. “And it’s called the Red Banshee.”

Lydia stops and arches a practiced brow at Stiles. When he responds with a sheepish shrug she rolls her eyes. “You are serious,” she sighs.

“Yeah, well, I named a drink for everyone in the pack, I figured you should get to try yours. You’re the only one who hasn’t.”

Lydia chuckles and takes another sip. It’s good. Sweet, but with a bite. “So what’s in this one?” she asks. “There’s something bitter in it. Gives it a bit of a kick.”

“That would be the Campari.”

“Campari?” Lydia says, surprised and a bit impressed. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Yeah. It’s sweet, but with an underlying bitterness. Gorgeous to look at, but complex. Not quite what it appears to be.”

Lydia looks up and Stiles is smiling at her, soft and genuine, the kind he only gives out to the people he really cares about. She smiles back and lays her hand on his forearm, giving it a squeeze.

“I really did miss you, Stiles Stilinski,” she says.

“I really did miss you too.”

“Bartender we’re out of drinks,” Danny says, coming up behind Lydia and slinging an arm over her shoulder.

“See what I put up with?” Stiles says, but the impossible fondness on his face gives him away.

Lydia loops her arm around Danny’s waist and says, “I don’t know. He’s not so bad.” She drags a hand to lift Danny’s shirt. “Great abs.”

“He does have great abs,” Stiles sighs.

“Stop objectifying me. Come join the party. Scott’s asking for you. I don’t know what kind of wolfsbane you laced his drinks with, but he’s hammered.”

Stiles laughs and tosses the bar towel by the sink before coming around to join them.

“Now Scott was a guinea pig,” Stiles mutters to Lydia as they make their way over to the rest of the party. 

She catches sight of Allison, laughing a full-dimpled laugh at something Scott is saying, nearly collapsing under the force of it, and Danielle is playfully shoving at Scott’s face while Isaac chuckles from his seat on one of the tables. Derek must’ve taken off while they were at the bar, since he’s never been one to stay late at these things.

And Lydia laughs, shaking her head, both at Stiles’ comment and at the sight of her friends, and she finds her chest bursting with something she can’t quantify, something building and threatening to consume her, something that she might not mind being consumed by because it feels an awful lot like home.

*

Lydia awakes the next morning with a headache trying to pound its way out of her skull. She tries to stay asleep for a while longer, face tucked into Allison’s chest where she can feel the soft rumble of her quiet snores, but eventually she can’t ignore the pain and gets up for an aspirin.

To her relief there’s a bottle of aspirin sitting on the bathroom counter. Lydia’s guess is on Stiles since he’s always up early after a night of drinking, and she’s grateful he had enough foresight to save her from digging through his medicine cabinet. 

She and Allison had been talked into staying at Stiles and Danny’s the night before, probably for the best, since neither of them had been very coherent even for calling a cab. There had been a moment after they’d climbed into the bed in the spare room where they had attempted to have sloppy drunk sex, but then they’d both more or less passed out on each other.

Lydia can smell the coffee before she’s even halfway down the hall, and it’s the most welcome smell in the world. She pours herself a cup and then shuffles into the living room, trying not to jar herself in any way and send her brain crashing into her skull. 

Stiles is curled into a corner of the couch staring at the TV set. He hardly even looks like he’s watching it, and really, with these hangovers, Cake Boss is not the show Lydia would’ve chosen to watch. She decides not to comment as she sits down next to Stiles. He made her coffee and left her aspirin and she’ll let him watch whatever he wants in return.

She barely notices the way Stiles automatically shifts to accommodate her, letting her lean into his chest so he can wrap an arm around her shoulder. It may have been a while since they’ve lived together, but they still fit like this, still mould into each other on instinct. On the muscle memory of so many evenings spent on the couch in their shitty Berkeley apartment when they were both too tired or too stressed or too emotionally compromised to go out. Lydia misses this.

She glances up at Stiles from her coffee and that’s when she notices: he’s wearing glasses. Lydia frowns and reaches up to grab them off his face.

“Hey!” Stiles protests, and then winces at the volume of his own voice.

“Since when do you have glasses?” Lydia asks, trying them on and immediately regretting it when it makes the world spin around her. “Ugh,” she says and hands them back.

“Thank you,” Stiles says, going for annoyed and nearly missing the mark. “And I got them a couple years ago. I usually wear contacts.”

“I like them,” Lydia says, assessing his face with the glasses firmly back in place. “You should wear them more often.”

“You and Danny should form a club,” Stiles mutters.

Lydia just chuckles and takes a sip of her coffee. She glances at the TV and squints at the cake on screen. It looks to be about three feet tall, and it’s a cliff, complete with jungle foliage and what appears to be a working waterfall.

“Is that actual water running on that thing?” Lydia asks.

“I think it might be.”

“Why are we watching this?”

“The remote on the other side of the room and I didn’t want to get up.”

Lydia huffs out a laugh and leans her head back against Stiles’ chest. Just then Allison shuffles into the room, makeup smudged around her mostly-closed eyes, though her hair has somehow managed to retain its well-groomed curls. She whimpers and crawls onto the couch, resting her head in Lydia’s lap.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Lydia says, digging her fingers into Allison’s hair to get at her scalp.

Allison grunts and hides her face in Lydia’s thigh. “How are you okay?” she mumbles, the muffled words barely audible.

“First of all: my brain has only recently stopped trying to crash its way through my skull; second of all: you drank far more than I did last night,” Lydia responds. 

Allison groans and Lydia responds with gentle fingertips rubbing soothing patterns into her head. “I hate everything,” Allison says. “Except your fingers. Keep doing that.”

“Did you know Stiles has glasses?” Lydia asks.

Allison doesn’t respond, so Lydia stops rubbing her head. Allison makes a pathetic noise in response. 

“I asked you a question,” Lydia says, using a little more force than is necessary as she rubs down the back of Allison’s neck.

“Yes, I knew, who cares?”

“You are so cranky when you’re hungover,” Lydia mutters, but she keeps on with her fingers and Allison nuzzles into her lap.

“Well aren’t you three adorable,” Danny says, leaning against the doorway and grinning.

Lydia and Stiles look over, but Allison doesn’t budge. Danny walks over and leans down to give Stiles a kiss. 

“Want some breakfast?” he asks.

“Are you even a little bit hungover?” Stiles says in response. 

Danny just smiles, all dimples. “I hate you,” Stiles mumbles, but he does it against Danny’s lips as he pulls him into another kiss so it rather loses its effect.

“Pancakes?” Danny asks.

“That almost sounds good,” Lydia says.

“No food,” Allison supplies.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, I’ll eat your share for you,” Lydia says.

Stiles laughs and it vibrates through Lydia’s body and she runs her hand down Allison’s arm doing her best not to jostle her. 

Fifteen minutes later the scent of pancakes starts wafting from the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a couple random tumblr fics that go with this. I have the same username on tumblr, but if anyone's interested in me posting them here as part of this series let me know. Otherwise it's tagged "you've got the love" on my tumblr.


End file.
